


I'm only Human

by MohawkAssassin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MohawkAssassin/pseuds/MohawkAssassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is upset at Sherlock for what happened back in Dartmoor, and decides to not go easy on him this time.<br/>How will Sherlock handle the situation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm only Human

**Author's Note:**

> First Johnlock fic.  
> If I get any requests, I'll elongate it with a few other chapters, and perhaps throw in a lemon.  
> Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated.

“John…” He uttered out of the blue. “You’re not still angry with me, are you?”

John lifted his head from the book in his hands and gazed beside him, where Sherlock was seated, fiddling with his violin. He placed the book aside and turned towards the other man, more irritated than intrigued.

“And what makes you think that?”

Sherlock stared at a blank point in space and parted his lips to speak.

“The way you were handling the book suggested that you feel tense. You haven’t picked up a single word, flipping through the pages like that. And what were you reading, exactly? _‘The Principles of Organic Chemistry’._ Oh, please. That is the last thing on earth you would read. But, no offense. You've barely spoken for hours, which is unlikely for you. Furthermore, the way your feet are crossed mea-”

“Alright. Can you please stop that, Sherlock?” He blurted at his flat mate. Although unexpected, the silence that followed after was short-lived.

“You asked me a question and I answered you.” He smirked, pulling one string of the violin. “Now, it’s best you do the same.”

John rolled his eyes in exasperation. He already knew, for Christ’s sake. Weren't his deductions enough? Sherlock adjusted himself better in his armchair and pinned his eyes upon John.

“Yes. In fact, I am beyond angry at you.”

“And why is that?”

“Let me finish, Sherlock. Just… _let me finish_. Okay?”

Sherlock’s steeple hands slowly tucked under his chin. He was careful to hear everything John had to say, half of which were highly predictable. _How could you trick me…? I could have had a heart attack… You utter… You…_

Clearly he resented the fact that Sherlock drugged his coffee back in Dartmoor, Baskerville. John understood his benign intentions, yes, but refused to go easy on the consulting detective. _I had to test my theory_ , he calmly said.

“You used me!”

“I said I had to test my theory.” He repeated himself.

“News flash: You were wrong.” John erected from the armchair and looked down at the other man, now furious. He never wanted to be wrong. He could accept being almost anything: arrogant, stubborn, rude. But the last thing he wanted to be called was _wrong_. Sherlock placed his violin on the chair and immediately stood up.

“I’m only human, John. I’m no machine, nor extraterrestrial. I’m just like you, like everyone else. I have my moments of weakness and despair. The only difference is that I choose not to share it with the world. Do you understand?”

He did. He understood Sherlock more than anyone had until that day. What he did not understand was how close he was to John. His sterling grey orbs darted rapidly, waiting for John’s unspoken answer. But he stayed silent. He swore he could feel the blood pumping through his veins. His pupils dilated, and Sherlock did not fail to notice.

“John?” He murmured, afraid to move. John looked at his feet, then back up again.

“I do. I… understand. I’m sorry.”

“There is no need t-”

“No. I am sorry, Sherlock.”

He lifted an eyebrow and began to walk away, but he was held back by a hand on his shoulder. Before he could even think or act, John pressed his lips against Sherlock’s without warning. He was startled by the assault; it was the least he could expect. But John continued to tug on his lower lip, making it impossible to not return the favor. Sherlock cupped his cheek, kissing him intensely. Their lips were a perfect match as they swayed together rhythmically. The goose bumps along his creamy skin bloomed in their wake. Sherlock rid himself from all inhibitions and gave in to the moment.

It wasn't long before they broke apart, gasping for air. They pressed their foreheads together. Sherlock closed his eyes with his mouth agape. Then, he approached John’s ear.

“Don’t be sorry for that, too.” He whispered. His rich, husky voice was making it hard for John to breathe. Before he could respond, Sherlock walked away without turning his head back and John was left alone, grinning like a child with his cheeks flushed. He sat back down and ruffled his hair. John didn't quite get what happened in the last five minutes, but he didn't mind if it were to happen again.


End file.
